


I Love Hearing About Presses

by somekindaspacecadet



Category: Newsies - All Media Types, Newsies!: the Musical - Fierstein/Menken
Genre: Anxiety, Fluff, I can't let anything bad happen to these gays, Implied Sexual Content, It's really just fluff there's no plot, M/M, Period-Typical Homophobia
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-09-11
Updated: 2018-09-11
Packaged: 2019-07-10 22:52:41
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,466
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15959273
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/somekindaspacecadet/pseuds/somekindaspacecadet
Summary: Bill leaves work early for a very good reason, and then realizes what the reason was.





	I Love Hearing About Presses

Bill felt like he was at the end of his metaphorical tether. He rubbed his eyes and sighed loudly. He'd been cooped up by himself in a tiny cube of a basement office all day long, sorting through papers. Their normal filing assistant had suddenly left town, and without anyone to replace him, Hearst had sent Bill to take his place, no doubt as punishment for arriving to work ten minutes late. He was glad, at least, that Darcy wasn't the one getting punished-- he'd let him come in first and then waited ten minutes to show up, so no one would be suspicious-- but he still regretted whatever small universal infractions he'd made that gave him enough bad karma to end up here for the day. The desk was too low, the chair was small and uncomfortable, there was barely any light to see by, and he'd inhaled so much glue and ink by now that his head ached like hell and he wondered if he'd start seeing things.

And on top of it all, he still had an enormous stack of papers to get through in the next hour and a half if he wanted to get home on time. _Home to Darcy,_ he thought, feeling a little tug in his stomach. They'd met up almost every night this week, ever since they'd walked home together from the Lodge, via some unspoken agreement that that was what they both wanted. Bill always left his window unlatched, and Darcy always knocked. He felt more at home than ever, he realized, anytime Darcy was there. _Darcy._

Bill pushed himself back in his chair, leaned his head back, and let his eyes drift closed. He breathed out.

“Bill?”

Bill started, nearly jumping out of his chair. He opened his eyes to see Darcy standing in the doorway, which he must have managed to open silently, despite the insistent creaking of its hinges. He was gently closing the door behind himself, and his fingers were tapping erratically on the knob. He looked at the floor, blushing slightly.

“Darcy,” Bill said, surprised. “Hello.” He stood up and straightened his tie, for all the good that would do.

“H-hello.” The door was closed now. Darcy was still staring at the floor. He sighed shakily and swept a hand through his already messy hair.

“Are you all right?” Bill’s face softened, and he stepped forward, closing the gap between them. He touched Darcy's shoulder gently, in a way that had somehow become natural in the short time since he’d actually begun permitting himself to do it. “What's the matter?”

Darcy shook his head. He leaned forward and wrapped his arms around Bill, pressing close to him. Bill felt his heart skip a few beats, until he remembered the lack of windows in the room, which he was grateful for for the first time that day. He hugged Darcy back, reaching up to run a hand through his hair. “Hard day?”

He felt Darcy nod and squeeze back a little tighter. _It must have been, if he came all the way down here just to see me,_ Bill thought. He pressed a kiss to his temple. “M’ sorry.”

“Couldn't find you,” Darcy mumbled into Bill’s jacket. His voice sounded small, embarrassed, nervous.

 _Shit._ He’d forgotten to tell Darcy where he’d been moved to. “Damnit, I'm sorry, Darce,” he said worriedly. “Father made me work down here. I forgot to tell you.” _Why can't I do this right?_ Bill knew Darcy didn't like it when things didn't go as expected. A twang of guilt went through him.

Darcy sighed. “S’all right. Not your fault.” He was still leaning on Bill, arms wrapped around his waist tightly. He smelled like new paper and oil and ink, and at the same time like the peppermints he always kept in his pockets. _Like Darcy._

Bill traced circles with his thumb on Darcy’s back, between his shoulder blades, and all thoughts of finishing his work for the night vanished as he felt Darcy relax against him. “Want to go home?” he asked quietly.

It was a moment before Darcy nodded. He pulled back a little to look at Bill's face. “Thank you.”

Bill traced his jaw with his fingers. “Of course. All you have to do is ask.” He tipped his head forward to kiss him on the lips. “Want to stop by your house first to tell your parents you'll be gone?”

Darcy squeezed his eyes shut like something sharp had pricked him. “No.”

“Okay.” Bill slipped his hand into Darcy's and squeezed it. “A stealthy exit it is.”

Darcy smiled a little.

They took the back way to Bill’s house, using the basement door to leave the building and then sneaking in through the servant’s entrance beneath the Hearst’s back porch. Since it was almost five on a Friday, the household was completely empty. Still, though, they went up the stairs to Bill’s room, where Bill slid the lock into place behind them and drew the curtains for good measure. They both tossed their jackets and shoes onto the floor and sat facing each other on Bill’s bed. Bill reached forward and concentrated on untying Darcy's tie, which he always did up impeccably each morning. Darcy said nothing, resting his hands on Bill's legs.

Bill’s eyes flickered across Darcy's face. “Did anything happen today?” he asked gently, pulling the tie loose from around Darcy's collar, and then took off Darcy's glasses. He set both aside and held Darcy's hands.

Darcy laced their fingers together and ran his thumb across the back of Bill’s hand. “A lot.”

“Would you like to tell me?” Bill asked. “If you'd rather not, that's all right. But if it helps, I'm happy to listen.” He lifted Darcy's hand to his mouth and kissed it.

Darcy pressed his lips together in a straight line. “I-- Bill?”

“Yes?”

“Could we-- um.” He blushed and looked away.

“Yes we can,” Bill said. “What are we doing?”

Darcy smiled a little, embarrassed. “C-can we be-- more--”

Bill nodded. “Come here.” He pulled Darcy into a hug and they both laid down on top of the blankets, Darcy curling up with his head resting on Bill's chest and Bill with his arms still wrapped around Darcy's waist. “Better?” he asked softly.

“Yes.”

Darcy's eyes were closed, and Bill found himself staring, transfixed, at the way the amber light from the gas lamps played out against the contours of his face, painting broad strokes across his cheekbones and eyelids and lips. He resisted the urge to trace out every feature with his fingertips. _There really isn't a word,_ he thought. _I wish he knew._

At first, Bill thought Darcy wasn't going to say anything, but then he started talking, telling him quietly about the headlines he'd had to help publish, the people who kept coming in to bother him with changes and updates and corrections, his brothers stopping by just to pester and be demanding. Being shut up in his tiny underground office for a day sounded like a walk in the park compared to what Darcy had gone through.

Bill felt terrible on days like this, felt terrible on Darcy's behalf because he knew they were exhausting and painful and draining. Darcy had always had more bad days than either Katherine or Bill when they were growing up, and Bill had always reserved a private little section of his heart for hating the world for what it did to his best friend. Nobody deserved to have to struggle every day because the world didn't make room for what they needed. _Why does no one ever think about Darcy?_ the bitter part of Bill always yelled. _Can't you see what you're doing to my Darcy?_

As bitter as he sometimes felt, though, Bill found himself wishing sometimes that the ends of these days would stretch on just a while longer. When they were younger, he and Katherine would go to spend the night with Darcy, and they'd all squeeze in together on the bed with Darcy in the middle, whispering stories well into the night, until they all eventually fell asleep. Now, though, it was different. Now the bad days ended with just the two of them in Bill's room, with Darcy pressed against him so they could feel each other's heartbeats, and it felt like more, like every passing second carried the weight of the world. Now, Bill felt like he could fight back against the world just a little. That if he could just hold him tight enough, if he could just make him smile, some of the damage could come undone. It was ridiculous for him to want to protect Darcy, he knew. They were both grown now and could fend well enough for themselves, and most of the time, Darcy was the first to stand up for himself.

Still, though, he loved every second of this. He loved how Darcy smelled. He loved how Darcy's hair felt between his fingers. He loved how Darcy's mouth tasted. He loved the sound of Darcy's voice, the voice he only used when he was talking to Bill. He loved hearing about presses. He loved holding Darcy's hand.

He loved Darcy.

_I love Darcy._

The realization happened upon him instantly, like a light suddenly switching on in a dark room and enabling him to see an entire landscape he’d been blind to before.

He hadn't realized he'd stopped stroking Darcy's hair until Darcy moved, propping himself up on one elbow and looking down at Bill. “Am I boring you? Sorry.” he apologized, cheeks turning pink. “I know the mechanical stuff isn't too exciting, we can talk about something different if you--”

Bill cut him off mid-sentence with a kiss. “I love hearing about presses,” he mumbled against Darcy's mouth, stopping to kiss him between words. “I love it. You have no idea how much I love it.”

Darcy laughed a little, surprised. He kissed Bill back. “I think I'm the only one who loves presses that much, but I appreciate the enthusiasm,” he said jokingly.

“No-- I-- _mm,_ Darcy.” Bill kissed him again, closing his eyes and tugging Darcy down on top of him so their noses brushed together. “Darcy,” he repeated softly. “Darcy.”

“Yes?” Darcy breathed. His eyes came to rest on Bill's. The corners of his lips were turned up in a slightly amused smile, and one side of his face was still red from where it had been pressed against Bill’s shirt.

“I love you, Darcy,” Bill whispered.

Darcy stared at him, and the smile disappeared from his face. For a moment that felt like a painful eternity, Bill thought, _oh God, why did I say it? He doesn't love me back._

Then, an even bigger smile stretched across Darcy's face, wide and glowing, lighting up his eyes. “I love you too,” he said softly. “Bill.”

“Yes?”

“Why'd you stop kissing me?”

Bill involuntarily smiled back, and went back to kissing the boy he loved.

 

Saturday morning came all too quickly for Bill’s liking. When he finally opened his eyes, he caught a glimpse of the clock on the mantle across the room. _Ten thirty? Christ._ The sunlight beginning to escape from the drapes only reaffirmed that it was, in fact, ten thirty. Bill sighed and closed his eyes again. Darcy was facing him, and they were pressed together from hip to nose, legs and bedsheets tangled. 

Painstakingly slowly and ever-so-gently, Bill managed to disentangle himself from the warmth of the bed and stand up. He tucked the covers back up around Darcy's shoulders. Darcy stirred and murmured something drowsily. Bill bent down and kissed him. “Shhh. Back to sleep. I'll be right back.”

Bill smiled to himself as he pulled on a pair of pajamas and a robe from one of his drawers. Awake Darcy was only rivaled in attractiveness by the endearing mumbles and enviable bedhead of sleeping Darcy. 

He locked his bedroom door behind himself, just in case anyone tried to open it while Darcy was still asleep. He snuck down the hallway to the kitchen, careful to avoid any chances of being seen by his parents, who he could hear having breakfast in the dining room. It only took a few words to the cook-- who had always had a sweet spot for Bill, and was in the extremely helpful habit of never asking too many questions-- and Bill was headed back upstairs again with a plate full of enough eggs, bacon, strawberries, and pancakes for two people. He made it across the landing and back to his room, feeling accomplished, without so much as the creak of a floorboard. 

When he came back, Darcy was propped up against the headboard, glasses on and pillows piled behind him, and, quite noticeably for Bill, still very much undressed. He smiled at Bill. “Good morning.”

Bill set their breakfast down on the bedside table and leaned across the bed to kiss Darcy. “It is.” He grinned. “I thought I told you to go back to sleep.”

“Did you?” Darcy raised an eyebrow. “How rude of me to wake up.”

Bill rolled his eyes. He climbed back up onto the mattress, sitting so he was between Darcy and the headboard behind them. Darcy leaned back against him as Bill reached for the plate of food. “Especially considering I went all the way to the kitchen to get breakfast for you.”

Darcy laughed and tilted his head to look up at Bill. “Oh yes, my hero. All the way to the kitchen.”

“Mmm.” Bill kissed his forehead. “So ungrateful.”

“My deepest apologies, Mr. Hearst.”

“Eat your pancakes or I'll eat them for you, Mr. Reid.”

Breakfast passed slowly, with both of them making every attempt to drag out their time together as much as possible. By ten past eleven, though, they'd finished off the food and both gotten dressed for the day (much to Bill’s dismay).

Darcy walked over to where Bill had been standing in front of the mirror, combing his hair. He looped his arms around Bill's neck, looking up at him. “Don't make me leave.”

“Trust me, I don't want you to leave.” Bill sighed. “You'll come back tonight?”

“I will.”

“Where are you going to tell your parents you were this whole time?” Bill asked. “God, they'll think you were out with a girl or something.”

Darcy scoffed. “I doubt they've even noticed I'm gone.”

“I hope you're right.” Bill kissed him. “You'd better get home, though.”

“All right.” Darcy kissed him back, then made his way to the window, which he slid open, stepping out onto the fire escape. “Bill!” He exclaimed suddenly.

“What?” Bill asked, surprised.

“I love you,” Darcy said.

Bill smiled. “I love you too.”

**Author's Note:**

> Follow me on tumblr @somekindaspacecadet where I post mildly interesting content !  
> Also I have a few other fics up rn about other underappreciated newsies ships so I'd love it if you wanted to read those <3 (and stay tuned for a college au hopefully coming soon with many many lgbt+ newsboys)


End file.
